Further Notice

We are all moved and have survived the holidays...wheew!...and by "holidays" I do mean "holiday" which means Christmas, not to be confused with Hanukkah, Ramadan, Kwanzaa, or Festivus.

I hope to post more soon, including some photos, but for now I must keep my nose to the grindstone and keep unpacking...box after box after box...who knew we had so much CRAP?!

I mustn't give too much away, but I will leave you all with this: we are now the proud owners of a real, once-alive, stuffed opossum, thanks to the generosity of Jeff's sister Meridith.

Thank you a LOT! =)

Happy New Year to all!

Julia's Grill

Word on the street is Julia lost her first tooth last night at a birthday sleepover for her best good friend Ella. Apparently it came out all on its own in the night. Surely this will be a sign of their eternal bond of friendship as Ella lost the same tooth, the same tooth that was being crowded out by an already erupting adult tooth behind it, when Julia slept over just two weeks ago.
BFF!

Memory Lane

P'raps I should send Flat Stanley to that one cousin of mine who just left for Israel so he could show him around. I mean, what other Flat Stanley in that class could say he has been from Goshen to Beulah?

Project Flat Stanley

My nephew Ethan's Flat Stanley accompanied us on our weekend adventure.

Stanley didn't believe he was capable of performing the emergency functions outlined on the card so he swapped his wing exit seat for a window seat in the back.

This seemed wicked cool especially since Ethan is quite the little Dubya fan..."Dear Jesus, please don't ever let President Bush be on money because only DEAD presidents are on money!"...yeah, really cool until I saw THIS this morning. Oh well!

IT'S A BOY!

Haven't been quite sure how to unveil this little secret in blogdom, but here he is, Baby Boy Jackson #2. He doesn't have a name yet, but we've pretty much ruled out Michael, Samuel L, Tito, Stonewall, and Bo. His estimated date of arrival is April 2, 2007 which makes me 18 weeks 3 days on my way...and counting! I am delighted to report that I am feeling GREAT and more importantly, he looks to be developing normally and on schedule according to the ultrasound!

My ultrasound was Monday and the whole family was able to attend. All parties were delighted with the verdict, even Kathryn who had insisted until that point that it was going to be one boy AND one girl.

A few weeks ago I overheard Andrew telling someone we were all hoping for a boy because Dad said there was too much estrogen in the house already. =)

In other news, we have a deal on our house and are set to close on November 20...finally. It has been a long year of limbo since our last deal fell through in November 2005. Jeff is on a hunting trip this weekend and I am going out of town next weekend which leaves us limited time to pack up and get the heck out of here, and oh, did I mention we don't know where we're moving yet?! Yet here I sit...blogging...watching Air Bud Seventh Inning Fetch with Kathryn for at least the 47th time...THIS WEEK!

But, it is okay...IT'S A BOY!

"1000 of X-MASS Items"

Where do I begin? This place of business is one of the longest surviving enterprises in the downtown district of my hometown. And you can see why. In addition to the extensive inventory of ever-so-very-useful, and also very common and very USED, household treasures he stocks, the shopkeeper has also mastered the art of advertising and public relations as you can see by his window display. If "knifs", "air gun", or "soward" are on the wishlist of your loved one this year, then look no further than "HallMart" for all your "X-MASS" needs.

Happy Halloween!

Obi Wan Kanobi and Bride were freshly stitched this year.
Dorothy was my first attempt at a dress 3 years ago,
altered to fit the "smaller hauler", as Papa calls her.

Thanks to Grant for the use of his lightsaber!

"Mom, you really look so much like a real cat!" ~Julia, dead serious

This Dorothy KNOWS she isn't in Kansas anymore...BURRRRR!
(I'll have to include a picture of the store window in the background
in another post...it's a good'ne!)

Kathryn, Julia, Mom, Andrew

Awake My Soul

A year and a half ago when I purchased Phillips, Craig & Dean's "Let the Worshippers Arise" CD, the title track seemed to be the family favorite, particularly Kathryn's. She would ask for it by name on every trip we took in the van for what seemed like months, and would sing along in typical two-year old fashion, muttering almost unintelligibly and then chiming in confidently on approximately the last word of every stanza. "Blah blah blah blah...RISE...blah blah SING...blah blah blah ALLLL...blah blah KING!"

Recently said CD has been resurrected from our collection and she has found a new favorite, Track 8, Awake My Soul. It has been about three weeks that we have been listening to it almost continuously in the van. If I happen to turn it down so that my calm voice of instruction might be heard ever so briefly (how dare I?), she will shout "No, all the way up!" and as soon as the accompaniment begins to fade even slightly near the end or the singing ceases for a moment between verses, she will shout "Again, again!"

She calls it "I'm Closin' My Eyes" and she knows quite a few of the real lyrics, though there are a number of interesting lyrics according to Kathryn peppered throughout. I will share the real lyrics because they really are quite powerful and the song is a favorite of mine as well:

When I close my eyes
I can see your glory
When I raise my hands
I can touch your face

When I bow my knees
I stand before you
Then Christ is formed me

Awake my soul
Prepare an entrance for your glory
And let my heart become a throne for you to dwell
And when I need your Holy Spirit more than life itself
Then Christ is formed in me

When I lose myself
I reflect your image
When I break my will
Then I am whole

When I give my all
I find life everlasting
Then Christ is formed in me

Awake my soul!

Awake my soul
Prepare an entrance for your glory
And let my heart become a throne for you to dwell
And when I need your Holy Spirit more than life itself
Then Christ is formed in me

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I share this not to boast of the righteousness of my three year old, nor of her righteous upbringing. If anything I am boasting of her tenderness DESPITE her upbringing. =) It blesses my soul to see her (and my other children) loving and learning the words to songs that will stay with her for life. Words that convey truth, not lies...words of hope, not despair, not jealousy, not lack of contentment...NOT CRAP!

Due to my early obsession with not truthful music, I have the lyrics of Top 40 hits from 1981 to present clanging around in my head on an almost daily basis. I don't consciously meditate on them, but when I hear the music of a song I haven't heard in 20+ years I can sing nearly every word without missing a beat. Not to over-spiritualize, I am not trying to argue for or against anything, just bearing witness to the power of music and the mind's ability to process and store words set to music. Not that I have been irreparably damaged by these words, but I recognize and at times am grieved that at the very least this useless information is taking up valuable space on my mental hard drive which could certainly be utilized for some better purpose.

Plus also, lest anyone think I am trying to paint too rosy a picture of my offspring, here is a story to keep a balanced view...A couple weeks ago, Julia and Kathryn were quarrelling fiercely upon Julia's arrival home from school. In the midst of the conflict, she piously asked Kathryn what she thought Jesus would do to resolve the matter at hand. Kathryn snappily replied, "I think Jesus would punch YOU right in the HEAD!"

To God be the glory!

Bumper Sticker Intelligence

Living near what was once the thriving automobile capital of the world, it is not surprising to see the American pride in buying American automobiles. Our life and livelihood have depended on that loyalty for generations. It is has been the basis of both our economy and our identity as a state. When the "Big Three" suffer, we all suffer...when they flourish (and when was that??), we all would flourish.

Anyway.

Least where I come from, you just don't see too many foreign makes on the road. We're all on the same team when it comes to buying American CARS or even vans, but NOT trucks. Oh no! Owners of trucks want the world to know why their brand of choice is superior to all others, especially other American made trucks, and it seems that the only effective medium for communicating this heartfelt conviction is either on the back window or back bumper of....oh let's just say 3 out 5 trucks you see on the road on a given day. You can't drive from here to town without encountering at least one little-boy-peeing-on-perceived- underdog-truck-brand-logo sticker, or one of the close runners up: "FORD-Fixed Or Repaired Daily" or "I'd rather push a Ford than drive a Chevy" or "Dodge: Mayor of Truckville".

But the peeing boy seems to say it best. From anti-gunners to the NRA, from Nixon to Bush to Clinton, from "mean people" to people who don't buy American, he pees on anything the driver doesn't like while the rest of the world is forced to watch or avert their collective eyes. Today I saw the same boy going at it again on the back of a Chevy. But he wasn't going ON anything...

It simply read "D - - n Wind". =)

Now there's one I'd like to own, I thought. So I snapped one up right quick on my way home and mounted it on the back of my American made minivan right smack betwixt my "My kid beat up your honor student at Podunk Elementary" and "Charlton Heston is MY president" stickers.

No, really I didn't. I didn't buy it and I have no stickers on my van. It is a Pontiac, but it was assembled in Canada.

Thursday's Epiphanies

• Discovering that Andrew now likes pineapple.
• Discovereing that Julia now likes raisins.
• Discovering that I had slept 7 1/2 consecutive hours the night before with no visits to the water closet.
  
• Discovering that cleaning the interior of the minivan more than 2 times a year really IS a good thing.
• Discovering that upgrading from the 3 dates per year plan really IS good for the marriage.

Wheew! I wonder what wonders this day will bring forth!

Kathrynisms

We, as mothers, are always going to write these things down. But where would we write them, IF we actually were able to remember them long enough to record them in a readable format?! On our blogs, of course...

Yesterday after we got home from church as I was making lunch, I asked Kathryn what she learned in Sunday School. Her reply: "About how the tiger will lie with the lamb".

Today in the van driving home from town, she asked if she could have fruit snacks when we got home. She asked repeatedly about what kind we had and then had me repeat each answer AGAIN. I can't tell if she is truly having difficulty hearing or if she is just exercising her ability to exasperate me frequently, but it seems like I need to plan on saying whatever I need to say no fewer than three times. For emphasis, for clarity, or simply for the sake of vain repetition
...I dunno. Anyway, I said we had Cinderella fruit snacks at home. "What?" she asked. Realizing that I had pronounced "snacks" with an extra harsh midwestern "a" sound, and knowing I would surely have the opportunity to say it again in the foreseeable future, I tried my best to tone it down when I repeated the answer one more time. A few moments of silence from the backseat passed before she said, "No, Mama, we don't say 'snocks', we say 'snaaaaacks'!"

Finally, an interesting word has been created in our household and is becoming very popular in use. Kathryn is the coiner, "sharaboosa" is the word. I can't say for certain when it came into existence, but it is a most versatile piece of vocabulary. It can be used interchangeably as an expletive or a term of endearment, depending on inflection and context, of course. Snarled through clenched teeth as a prelude to an utter meltdown, it conveys the meaning of something similar to "leave me alone, you big poo poo head". But whispered through petal soft little lips with arms wrapped tightly around my neck, "Mama, you are my little sharaboosa!" well it just melts my heart...whatever it means!

911...What's your Emergency?!

So it was a beautiful, classic, cool, crisp fall morning. I drove the kids to school and then returned home with Kathryn, revelling in the peace that comes with having only one child home with no siblings to fight with. Andrew went back to school yesterday after being off all last week, but I worked yesterday, so I hadn't been home alone with just one child for the day in over a week. It was nice.

I did my morning tidying and then settled in to a mountain of cutting out of patterns and fabric I had waiting for me after way over-indulging myself two days in a row at JoAnn Fabrics. After going at it for half an hour, I stood from the living room floor to stretch and move around a little before tackling the next pattern.

I happened to glance out the front window to behold the beauty of the day once more, when I was startled out of my mind by what I saw staring back at me. Eleven horses were standing in and about my driveway turnaround as if it were nothing out of the ordinary at all..."This is what we always do on the last Tuesday morning of every month!"

I ran for my camera. By the time I came back, they were making their way down the driveway toward the road. As you can see by the second photo, their mothers had trained them well to be very cautious and to look both ways before stepping out into and stopping traffic. A semi sat at a standstill for a couple of minutes while they meandered along before veering off onto a private drive.

I called 911 straightaway. And the dispatcher didn't even laugh, bless his heart. He said Animal Control would be there momentarily.

I was much calmer than the last time I called 911 when two rollover accidents happened within minutes of each other in front of my house last March. The second one left a man trapped under water while the victims of the first accident struggled to free him as I looked on screaming and nearly hyperventilating into the phone myself. They did manage to get him out and brought him into my house until the ambulance arrived. He ended up being okay.

Who even needs television when you are surrounded with this kind of drama right in the middle of nowhere?

Ridin' Dirty

Today while at JoAnn Fabrics I saw a sweetish looking elderly lady. I can't be certain of her age, but I am thinking she was at least 150 years old. Far too old to be able to even hear a cell phone ringing, much less to own one, much less to know what button to press to answer it, and much MUCH less to have a racy ringtone.

I was minding my own business browsing the single-fold bias tape when I heard a familiar tune jingling nearby, plain as day a naughty-ish rap/hip hop song called Ridin', followed by a shaky "Hello".

I smiled to myself.

"They see me rollin'...They hatin'...Patrollin' and tryna catch me ridin' dirty...My music's so loud...I'm swangin'...They hopin' that they gon' catch me ridin' dirty..."

FYI: Wikipedia defines "riding dirty" as: Participating in illegal activity while in a motor vehicle, which could include:

* Driving a vehicle that contains contraband
* Driving a vehicle without a license
* Driving a vehicle without the proper paperwork mandated by that
state
* Driving a stolen motor vehicle
* Being a passenger during any of these situations

I caught that little stinker red-handed, ridin' dirty if ever there were a dirty rider in all of the JoAnn Fabrics Friday Morning 40% Off Sale.

Dirrrrr-tay!

Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease

It is REAL and Andrew has it!

And this breaks another week's silence on my blog.

Until this week, whenever I heard that disease mentioned, I mistakenly assumed it was some kind of joke about sticking one's foot in one's mouth too frequently or something.

Oh no, not so! For those of you not in the know, it is a moderately contagious viral infection that causes fever, and blisters in the mouth and on the hands and feet.

Only after he had complained of extremely painful chancre sores for 3 days and not eaten for almost one, did I bother to even look in his mouth. Oh MAN! He had more than 10 blisters. I felt terrible, of course, and took him to the doctor the next morning to confirm the diagnosis. Yep, that was it. He has been off school the rest of the week with Julia delivering his homework on a daily basis.

Which reminds me...It stinks to be wrong. Wrong to have not have taken my darling son's complaints seriously sooner. Wrong to have done something so DUMB again...read on.

Julia has been riding the bus home without Andrew this week, obviously. Today I hadn't gone anywhere all day so I hadn't put the garage door up and didn't happen to realize it until I heard the bus take off after not dropping her off. Immediately I knew and dashed for the door hoping she might catch sight of me and stop. But NO, not this bus driver. She means biz-nass and takes her job very seriously. If the door ain't up, the child don't get off the bus and that's all there is to it. Unfortunately I already had occasion to learn this lesson, LAST year...umm, a couple of times. In my defense one of those times she was clearly in the wrong, but she still called and left a threatening message on my voicemail reminding me of her absolute and supreme authority as a licensed bus driver to make my life miserable pretty much till Jesus comes back. But this time I knew I was wrong and my second-born child was trapped on a runaway bus with a mean bus driver who didn't care much for her mother...I had to save her.

I called the transportation department and got their voicemail. I stated that I was in fact home and needed to know where I might be able to retrieve my daughter. I called the school operator and got their voicemail. Voicemail was not going to save her, but I left the same message anyway before calling the elementary school and reaching a real person, who quick as a wink radioed the bus garage, who radioed the bus driver, who named a meeting place within a mile from my house. I left my diseased boy in charge of my loves-to-be-naked-always 3 year old and sped away to fetch the medium sized girl.

I approached the bus sheepishly, still trying to decide what tactic to take with her given our history. As she whipped the door open scowling down from her perch on high, I saw her draw in a breath as if in an attempt to sustain herself for the next 5 minutes in which she would proceed to verbally spank me AGAIN. Dangit! At that moment, I asked "WWJD?"...no, I didn't really, but I did decide to be humble and not cocky. And to be Christ-like, not Janelle-like. And doggone it, it worked! I even thanked her for not letting Julia off at her stop. And she was almost what some might call "nice" in response as she stated the importance of this policy and her high calling to enforce it.

When I returned home, naked girl was still naked...bending over sweeping up Pringle crumbs that she had spilled on the kitchen floor whilst I was away for those 4 minutes.

Another day in the life of a semi-sorta-stay-at-home mom.

First Day of School

The kids finally started school on Monday after a longgg summer break. Due to the unfinished building projects going on at all three schools in the district, the administration extended the school by 10 minutes from January-May of last school year which apparently gave them enough hours/days logged to allow them to get out May 23rd and not return until September 11th. It actually was very nice up until the last few days. They were ready. I was ready!

An interesting fact is that I live in the same school district as I did when I was growing up. This has been both a positive and a negative thing. It is neat to look at my old world through the eyes of an adult. Memories flood back each time I enter the building and it smells exactly the same, or when I walk by the kitchen and I can just feel the giddy of excitement of realizing that it is Pizza Day. But being there also brings back insecurities of yore and has a way of calling to mind the burdens I carried as a child. And seeing that one mean teacher still elicits the same response. Anyway. Until this year, almost nothing had changed in the building structurally. A surprisingly high number of the same teachers remain, including two of my special favorites whom Andrew has had the privilege of learning from as well.

Part of what prompted me to resurrect this otherwise-dead-and-gone photo in the post below is that Andrew has the same homeroom teacher this year as I had for 6th grade science. When I introduced myself on the first day of school using my maiden name she interrupted me and said she knew it was me right away because of my "beautiful EYES"! She said she remembered them well...why?...because they are so BEAUTIFUL! I was dying! I remembered well how I looked in 6th grade. Instantly this photo came to mind, as I tried hard to stifle my laughter. Precious! I don't really have many, if any, memories of her at all--good or bad--just that she said "particular" a heck of a lot. And she still does! I sat in for a while one day this week. So far I am thoroughly impressed with her. The kids have day planners and clipboards...my kind of teacher. Andrew is just thrilled to have a locker for the first time, and I am thrilled that this should minimize the risk of any head lice hitching a ride to our house this winter.

I'll save the rundown on Julia's first week for another post since this is getting long.

Guess Who?

Yes, folks, that IS a mullet...an El Camino, if you will...
business in the front, party in the back!
The year was 1984. The girl was fixing to turn 11.
She was torn between the world of prep and punk and was convinced
that IF her parents would only permit her to wear parachute slacks,
she would stand a fighting chance at singing
backup vocals for Van Halen.

Here's Your Sign

I couldn't resist buying this sign for my office at work.

Red 'n' Pink

K: Same toys different day!
(She is actually supposed to be the red and pink subject.)

J: Neopets, Kacheek and Lupe.


A: Lava Lamp and Pinewood Derby Winners.



My favorite $3 garage sale purse with matching pink key fob and my favorite pink coffee mug.

Green Tuesdee

For those of you wondering what the heck I am doing with all these photos, I am participating in Color Week at the invitation of Liane. You take a picture featuring a different color for each day of the week.

Monday - Yellow
Tuesday - Green
Wednesday - Red or Pink
Thursday - Blue
Friday - Black or White

Following are our amateur attempts. The kids are really enjoying it. K even made a contribution today. Here they are...

J: A favorite photo of her and one her best friends, Ella.

A: Self-explanatory.

K: A view from her level in her world.

My own: I love green!

The End.

Yeller

Here are the color contributions from our corner of the world.

Good thing for color week because I almost forgot my bathroom was even yellow.

A's collection of yellow stuff in his room.

J's impression of yellow lampshade.

Got Water?

Recently I have been on a big water drinking kick and have been spotted sporting this gargantuan insulated mug of high quality H2O nearly everywhere I go. It's size alone invites comments aplenty from passersby, but so do the enlightening facts plastered all over the outside. In addition to those which can be seen in the photo, here are a few others:

* Warning: Water is energizing and refreshing. It may give you the urge to get off the couch. (Ya think? It gives me the urge to find the nearest bathroom quick fast in a hurry.)

* You should drink at least 8 glasses of water a day. (Yeah, 8 glasses if you weigh 128 lbs...CHA!)

* A mere two percent drop in body water can trigger fuzzy short-term memory, trouble with basic math problems, and difficulty focusing. (Wow, that's usually when I run out for a coffee which actually causes further dehydration. And all this time I thought I had ADD.)

* Water regulates the temperature of the human body, carries oxygen to cells, cushions joints, protects organs and tissues, and removes waste.

So that's that.

Darn UPS

One day last week, upon returning home from work, I was delighted to discover I had received a package. A decent sized and somewhat heavy rectangular box of a package. Interesting. I wasn't even expecting anything. But upon closer examination, I realized I didn't so much recognize the return address from Diane in California. And an even closer look revealed that it was not even addressed to ME, but rather to a person who had a not-so-very-similar name. Like if you added a letter and crossed the L's in my name. Yes, Jeanette J. And the street address was not even close to mine other than that both streets began with an M. The original address had been crossed out and a new label printed and placed next to it with my name and address. When I peeled back the label, I saw someone with 1st grader-ish looking handwriting had written "Don't live here, try Janelle J. at..."

I was SO irritated with the dadgum USPS. They are notoriously lazy and sloppy, and lack an eye for accuracy and detail at our local office. It is almost frightening, if not infuriating.

After nearly a week of looking at it on the counter and preparing my return speech, I finally made it to the post office to give them what FOR!

When I entered, nobody was at the counter. I could hear them diligently working just out of sight. The door made its gong sound alerting them to my presence, but not one of them stopped what they were doing to greet me, much less HELP me. I quickly revised my original speech to include the most recent offenses as I waited and waited and my fury grew with each passing second.

As I stood ready to attack, I just happened to look down and see at the bottom of the label...guess what...a UPS logo...and oh, what is this?...a UPS Ground Tracking #?..nowhere on the box did it even say USPS.

My package and I quickly, quietly, and HUMBLY exited the building without incident.

But now what the heck do I do with it?

I feel like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Maybe I should take a trip to California to return it to the sender in person. I think I'll take it to the local UPS store today.

Now THAT thar is more interesting than meatloaf.

A Meatloaf Kind of a Day

Yeah, you pretty much know it is time to consider retiring your blog when all you can think to post after over a week of nothingness is your favorite meatloaf recipe. Wild times at the J house. But it is so yummy, if you are of the meatloaf persuasion, that is.

So here she is...

Best-Ever Meatloaf

2 eggs
2/3 c. milk
3 slices bread, torn in pieces
1/2 c. onion, chopped
1/2 c. carrot, grated
1 c. cheddar or Mozzarella cheese, shredded
1 T. fresh or 1 t. dried parsley
1 t. basil
1 t. salt
1 t. pepper
1 1/2 lbs. ground beast

Topping:
1/2 c. tomato sauce
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 t. dry mustard

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350*
2. In large bowl beat eggs. Add milk and bread; let stand until liquid is absorbed.
3. Stir in onion, carrots, cheese, and seasonings. Add beef; mix well (using hands to mix).
4. In shallow baking pan shape mixture into loaf. Bake 45 minutes.
5. Meanwhile, combine topping ingredients. Spoon some over meatloaf. Bake 30 minutes longer, occasionally adding topping. Let stand 10 minutes befor serving. Serves 6.

And lest I be accused of plagiarism, this recipe was taken from Beyond Macaroni and Cheese edited by Mary Beth Lagerborg and Karen J. Parks.

A New Post for the Heckler Among Us

If you give a Mom a muffin,
She'll want a cup of coffee to go with it.
She'll pour herself some.
The coffee will get spilled by her three year old.
She'll wipe it up.

Wiping the floor, she will find some dirty socks.
She'll remember she has to do some laundry.
When she puts the laundry in the washer,
She'll trip over some snow boots and bump into the freezer.
Bumping into the freezer will remind her she has to plan dinner for tonight.

She will get out a pound of hamburger.
She will look for her cookbook (101 Things to Make with a Pound of Hamburger).
The cookbook is sitting under a pile of mail.
She will see the phone bill which is due tomorrow.
She will look for her checkbook.

The checkbook is in her purse that is being dumped out by her two year old.
She'll smell something funny.
She'll change the two year old.
While she is changing the two year old the phone will ring.
Her four year old will answer it and hang up.

She remembers that she wants to phone a friend to come for coffee on Friday.
Thinking of coffee will remind her that she was going to have a cup.
She will pour herself some.

And chances are......
If she has a cup of coffee......
Her kids will have eaten the muffin that went with it.

Imagine my horror...

So I took the van into the dealership this morning. The highest setting on the heating/AC blower wasn't working. We also were in need of new tires all the way around and I decided to do it today while I was already giving up a morning to take it in.

The dealership isn't the most conveniently located, but I am willing to drive quite out of my way to be accommodated by this delightful service department. Cliff and Steve should win an award for their outstanding ability to take care of their customers while taking so DANG much of their money, and still having them leave with smiles on their faces. They usually make special arrangements for "courtesy transportation" for me and roll out the red carpet for the kids: donuts, popcorn, soda...one day they even gave us some birthday cake of one of the employees. Today was no exception. After checking in and getting situated in the kid-friendly waiting area equipped with playhouse and television, I found myself an interesting read in the latest issue of People magazine. Cliff had brought me a couple of price quotes and had me OK a couple things. A short while later as I was returning from the restroom, I could see him approaching me with a very concerned look on his face. He discreetly slipped me this note...

He said he wrote it because he didn't know if it would upset the children to hear it. How very thoughtful of him to concerned about the children. I love Cliff.

The thing is I already knew we had a mouse problem back in the winter and suspected there was a nest, but I never could find it. One Sunday in January on our way home from church I happened to notice some randomly placed M&Ms on the floor between Jeff's seat and mine. I thought it was odd since I knew we hadn't eaten any in the van in quite some time. Upon further investigation I found another and another and another which led me to a bag of leftover goodies from A's Christmas gingerbread making project. Assuming the bag had just inadvertently been left open, I picked it up to re-seal it and all of the remaining treats fell out through a carefully chewed hole in the bottom of the bag.

When we got home I thoroughly scoured the van for evidence of any furry, chewing friends who might be lurking about. And evidence I did find...everywhere...turds, shredded paper and grocery bags and wrappers, and remnants of the green indoor/outdoor carpet we had on our landing in the garage...from the glovebox to the storage compartment in the back underneath the seats.

I spent an hour and a half that afternoon cleaning the van and then had Jeff set a couple of traps. The next morning the bait had been snatched and no "mouses" had been trapped. Determined to face my fears and reclaim my van as my own, I set off for the grocery store to buy several "sticky" traps. I strategically placed them all around the van, specifically targeting the areas I imagined I might like to travel if I were a mouse trapped in a van. I checked them every hour on the hour throughout the day and was no less disappointed each time I found nothing again...untilllll...about 2pm I went out and lifted up J's carseat to see a tiny, but verrrry scaaaaary nonetheless, brown mouse frantically trying to scurry away with the trap in tow. Only one foot and his tail were trapped.

What happened next is but a blur, but summoning all of my girly-scared-to-death-of-mice courage, I quick as a cat donned my rubber kitchen gloves and grabbed two plastic grocery bags. I placed my gloved hand inside one of the bags and used it as an extra protective barrier to pick up the mouse and place it inside the other bag, and then tied it up snugly. With my 5 year old daughter looking on, and cheering me on I might add, I placed it behind my van tire and backed over it. And then pulled forward it again, of course, just for good measure. Yup, it was dead. And then I put it in the trash. My heart was racing as if I had just escaped being EATEN by a mouse and my legs were still like Jell-O hours later.

Just call me Braveheart.

I enjoyed a cool ride home on my cool new wheels today knowing they were gone for good...until next winter...

(Stay tuned for a prequel to this mouse tale to be entitled "Mouse in the House".)

No Forks!

So I didn't stick a fork in my eye after all.

And I don't HATE Annie. I was just so stinkin' sick of hearing it in the background as K, J, and I all had simultaneous meltdowns that afternoon. It would have taken waaaaaaay too much energy to explain it right at that moment (though it would have made a killer blog post) so I punched Annie instead. I am sorry, Annie. I am sorry, Daddy Warbucks. We love you, Miss Hannigan!

Later that same afternoon I flopped down on my bed utterly exhausted for approximately 47 seconds of a nap before I was notified that K was "cooling her hair down" with toilet water. Good times! I was really reaching for the fork by that time.

We had VBS last week, FIESTA: Where Kids are FIRED UP about Jesus! It was a great curriculum. This was my second year as the Station Leader for Chadder's Desert Drive-In Theater which meant I had a new crew of 15-40 kids coming in my theater every 20 minutes for 2 hours. I would show a short segment of the feature presentation and then TRY to facilitate small group discussion while emphasizing/illustrating the Bible Point of the day and not forgetting to scream "VIVA!" and throw my arms up in a V every time I either said it or heard it spoken. Yeeeeah...it was pretty challenging, but I much prefer that role to being solely resposible for one group of 5-10 and escorting them throughout their day's activities. I had a couple great helpers and some super kids.

I really did enjoy it. Imagine, joy in serving Jesus? Joy in serving...others? How very foreign...who knew? And when else can you Cha-Cha and Mambo at church? And when else can you answer such deep spiritual questions as, "Mrs. Janelle, if I attached a message to God to this balloon and let it go, do you think He would answer me?" Umm, yeah...no, no I do not. And when else can you be in the middle of such RICH interaction with so many interesting little characters? Another tender soul brought to my attention his suspicion that I had worn the same shorts the day before. While another boy cautioned me that wearing flip-flops everyday was probably not in the best interest of my feet..."because you have ALL that WEIGHT on them with no support for your back." God bless. And yet another boy attempted to give me a detailed explanation for why his medical condition prohibited him from "tip toe-ing" after I had instructed him to do so. It was good fun!

Friday afternoon after the Fiesta festivities had concluded, we left for one of my favorite destinations anywhere and that would be our friend's parents' cabin about 3 hours "up north" of these here parts. It is not so much a cabin, but more of a nice 4 bedroom house in the middle of 340 heavily wooded acres complete with 3 new four-wheelers, two full sized for adults and one mini for the kids, and seemingly endless winding and hilly trails to explore. The house has running water, is powered by a generator, and is equipped with most modern conveniences except for central air. It even has its own satellite for improved cell phone reception. We stayed 2 nights with our friends and their 3 children, and another couple and their 3 children. So yes, that made 6 adults and 9 children under one roof. Surprisingly, it was very peaceful with not so much as a single squabble to settle all weekend. We did a lot of trail riding, ate lots of good food, and learned how to play a new game. The kids and I won't go back again till next summer, but Jeff will hunt there a couple weekends this fall. (See new photos on Webshots.)

Loud or Quiet?

No, really, I think I'd prefer the Quiet Township Cemetery
if given the choice, but thanks for asking.

I pretty much wanna stick a fork in my eye...

I really don't like Annie. Not one little bit.

I don't like Daddy Warbucks. I don't like Miss Hannigan.

I don't like the actors or the characters.

I don't like the songs.

I don't like the optimism.

The sun might not come up tomorrow.

So don't go betting your bottom on that nonsense.

Or your dollhairs.

I think it is time to return this video to Gramama for the good of everyone in this household.

So how's everyone else's day going?

=)

SHUT UP!

Umm...yeah...the cozy breakfast supper afterglow didn't last very long!

J and K were at each other's throats all day yesterday. Neither could do anything right in the eyes of the other. Both were territorial and combative over everything from Polly Pocket outfits to lap sitting privileges to scraps of leftover supper from the night before. It seemed like every few minutes some loud outburst of crying or SCREAMING or airing of a grievance erupted.

"NO!"..."Mine!"..."You started it!"..."Gimme my..."..."She just..."..."Mommmmmmmmmm!"

Allllll day I did my best to mediate and encourage sisterly kindness and independent conflict resolution, but finally after dinner, probably while I was writing my last post, I screamed, "SHUTTT UPPP!" and like possibly one or two other things that weren't the best choice of words to utter to my precious darlings.

The "S-U" word and its inappropriate use had just been a topic of discussion earlier in the day. I had told them that it wasn't a terrible thing to say, but asked them to listen to how other people sounded when they said it and to consider how it made them feel when people said it to them.

Tenderhearted little J quickly retreated to her bedroom to grieve over the harsh words spoken, while K quickly gathered the Polly Pocket/Barbie/Littlest Pet Shop spoils into her clutches and began establishing a new kingdom for herself in the absence of her enemy.

A few minutes later, J emerged with this carefully written message in hand...

(Translation: Mommy I will come out but I love you and
can you not say shut up)

And as if that didn't make me feel bad enough, the backside read...

(Translation: That ain't very Christian!) =)

I'm not exactly sure what sounds she hears in "very"...I'll have to work on that, right after I learn not to say SHUT THE HECK UP! I asked for her forgiveness and she obliged. All is well.

Breakfast Suppers

I love breakfast suppers. There is something that is so comforting about them to me. Yes, I am an emotional eater. Anyway, I would have at least one a week if it were up to me. Oh yeah, it is up to me and so we usually do have at least one every other week. Eggs and hashbrowns or waffles or pancakes or breakfast casseroles, but always with some complementary juicy pork product to accompany the main dish and round out our fat intake in the event that it had been running dangerously low that day.

Tonight was the night. I made homemade waffles with the Hazen family recipe and then tried this nifty idea that Amy sent me just this morning that involves boiling eggs in a bag to make individual omelettes. I was a little leary of the idear at first, but I thought the kids would enjoy making their own so I gave it a whirl and they were surprisingly tasty, but best of all they were ready all at the same time.

All you do is take quart size zip-loc freezer bags and write each person's name on them with permanent marker. Each person cracks not more than 2 eggs into their bag, drops in prepared ingredients of choice, and then shakes to combine. After blended, be sure to get all the air out of the bag and then zip it up and drop it into rolling boiling water for exactly 13 minutes and then dump it out onto your plate and gobble it up as fast as you can before anyone axes you to share.

Happy Birthday to Ju Ju!

Sistah Friends

I just wanted the world to know I love my sister.

She may have nearly maimed me for life with the handle of her sharp pink hair brush in Yosemite when I was 3 and may have laughed maniacally after tearing my longest, most cherished fingernail asunder just for fun on Christmas Eve when I was 7, but I like her anyway.

Thanks for a great week, sister friend. You're the best!

Sur-PRISE!

My Dad's party was a smashing success and a complete surprise, as you can see by this photo. His was reaction was just as I had anticipated. I was choked up all day imagining his choked up expression when he arrived. He did not disappoint.

Since the party was at my parents' house, we couldn't do any decorating or have anything out of the ordinary on the premises. Anyone who knows my Mom knows this was no small feat for someone who cannot tell a lie of any size, shape, or description...under any circumstance...EVER! She managed to squirrel away some supplies around the house, as well as mine, and do some of the cooking right under his nose since he doesn't have a very keen sniffer, but the rest had to be done the day of between the hours of 11am and 3pm, when he left for the county jail for Saturday services and when he was expected to return home.

Charlie and his family had spent the night at our house Friday, unbeknownst to my Dad, so they would be here bright and early to help with all the last minute preparations. As soon as he left for the jail, Charlie and Jeff swooped in with a truck full of rented tables and chairs, a tent, and an extra grill for the festivities. Ruth and I worked all morning getting food ready at our house before reporting for duty at my Mom's to be her hands and feet.

Everything was set to go at 3pm. Most of the guests had arrived on time since we had moved the party up an hour from what was originally printed on the invitations. But wouldn't you know it, of all days, my Dad had three services at the jail instead of the usual two so that delayed his arrival about two hours. We managed to keep everyone entertained and appeased with food, and in the meantime a few more stragglers were able to make it in before the big moment of surprise.

Sixty-eight people were in attendance. It was hard to hide that many cars, so people just parked all over the yard. Since their neighbors are building a house he said he thought that maybe the cars belonged to the people helping them when he drove up. Everyone was waiting in the garage and sang Happy Birthday as he got out of the van.

The weather was perfect! The food was yummy! My Dad was happy! Good times.

The day was complete just shy of midnight when Julie and Jared arrived unexpectedly a day early. They couldn't make it for the party, but had planned to arrive today for a week stay, but came last night instead.

Click on My Photos on the right to see more of the party and of our camping trip. And if anyone feels inclined to wish my Dad a happy birthday on the 12th, please click here.

Up North

We have just returned from our sojourn "up north" as they call it here in Michigan. Any recreational destination north of where you live is considered "up north". Of course the location varies from person to person, but many a Michigander child has grown up believing "up north" to be an actual physical location to be pin-pointed on a map. Just find its coordinates and there you are...UP NORTH!

S'wanyway, we went there. All the way up to Mackinaw City. For those of you less familiar with state, if you are looking at your left hand like the "mitt" of Michigan it would be round about the tip of your middle finger. It is the Lower Peninsula's northernmost city and from it extends the 5 mile long suspension bridge connecting it with the Upper Peninsula.

We camped for five delightfully relaxing days and nights with Jeff's parents and his sister, Meridith, and her family. The view from the campground was spectacular. Within sight of our campsites was Lake Huron and within steps was a full view of the bridge, the straits of Mackinaw (where Lake Huron connects with Lake Michigan), and of Mackinac Island. Night after night we saw beautiful sunsets over the water and we got to enjoy a lakeside view of the fireworks that were being let off simultaneously from Mackinaw City, Mackinac Island, and St. Ignace just across the bridge in the Upper Peninsula.

While the weekend was chocked full of blogworthy events, I presently lack the energy to do any of them any justice in written form. But I'll at least briefly mention a few.

• We went to a local waterpark for a day and saw one particularly unsightly sight that I wish I could post a photo of because I DO have one, but I must strive to keep this blog suitable for a general viewing audience. But It was ga-ROSS!
  
• We also rented a five passenger bicycle "car"...or Amish bike as Meridith called it...for an hour and took turns spinning about the grounds.
  
• We had the distinct pleasure of using of "primitive" toilets and showers. They weren't so very quaint or fresh, yet we all marveled after each visit how much the DIDN'T stink..."how'd they do that?"
  
• Oh that reminds me of the stinkin' skunk I discovered snooping in our trash the first night we were there. Not much of a story to tell. I was just trying to keep up my reputation of being a hero since I had bravely snatched up a tree frog out of Meridith camper earlier that day and thrown it back up into a tree of all places. When I heard rustling under the bed of our camper in the wee hours of the morn, I stealthily crept out with Maglite in hand ready to scare up somesing. But it wouldn't come out. Luckily I had the presence of mind in my sleepy stupor not to provoke the varmint. Finally it dashed out and into the nearby woods, but not before crossing my little beam of light at which time I saw black and white and sang praises unto Jesus for that fiasco which had just been narrowly averted.

We got back last night after a 7 hour trip that should have taken 4 1/2. Construction (in Michigan? who knew?) and holiday traffic are a bad combination apparently, but we made it. Seven loads of laundry and a port-a-potty scouring later, we are back to reality and MAN does it bite so much harder after you've had a nice little break. We both went back to work today. I work again tomorrow to make up for my frolicking and then have to scurry to get ready for a surprise party for my Dad on Saturday. Shhhhh...don't tell. He is turning 70.

I will try to post pictures soon.

Update

Just a quick post to say that I haven't given up blogging forever. I have had an injured wrist as some may have noticed Amy mentioning in a couple of her comments. I am not exactly sure what happened, there seem to be a number of possible causes, but it seems most likely that it is due to repetitive stress from working on the computer in a somewhat ergonomically unfriendly (if not a little HOSTILE) environment, both at work and at home. So I have been trying to rest it as much as possible and take a break from blogging. The latter being Jeff's suggestion as the wrist injury has only affirmed his belief that blogging is of the devil.

In the meantime, I have used said injury to get almost an entirely new office at work. Honestly, I haven't had to squawk that much at all. What started out as a humble request for a couple of wrist rests turned into a new flat screen, glare-free monitor that can sit in the middle of my desk so I don't have to turn my head as I did to gaze upon the gargantuan model which used to sit to my left...in front of a window...that faced the west...and burned my poor little retinas all afternoon. I thought I would strike while the iron was hot and asked to look for a used desk that would sit at the appropriate height at a garage sale or thrift store or something. But now I have been given permission to price a NEW desk and/or some other office components that would better accommodate my office mate, Shari, and myself in our postage stamp-sized office. And she gets a new monitor too. AND while I'm at it, I am supposed to pick up a couple quotes for a printer for our own office so we don't have to keep getting up to retrieve our documents from the general printer in another room.

I'll have to post a before and after picture or two when it's all done.

But for now I'm off to the doctor for the second day in a row. Not for my wrist, but for my migraines. Yes, I still get them. But for the first time in a long time...maybe EVER...I have some real hope of a real cure!

More on that soon...

Please used the other door...

I'm not out to disrespect Asians, though this, and my last post, might suggest otherwise, but...

Just two doors down from my office stands Wah Wong, one of 3 fine Chinese eateries in town. And on the front door is posted this sign. And everytime I enter, which is more often than I care to admit, I simply cannot contain my amusement.

The lunch specials make it waaaay too easy to justify the expense, the calories, the fat grams, the MSG, the breaking of child labor laws...=)...I'm just not strong enough to say NO to Lunch Special #5 too many days in a row, plus I love to laugh and I am never disappointed by the plentiful provision of opportunities to do just that with every visit or phone order..."How do I help you?"..."Pho numba plea? Okay, fi ten minute!"

(I think engrish.com is technically supposed to be Japanese in origin, but check it out for other such funnies...I mean, if you're into that sort of thing.)

So today Liane had an appointment in the same town where I work and was kind of enough to pay me a visit at my place of employment and meet my co-workers. (Actually, I insisted that she MUST and wouldn't take no for an answer, so it wasn't all about her kindness...I think she might have been a little too frightened not to comply with my wishes.)

All day I eagerly anticipated her arrival. I even dreamed about it last night. Don't think me too strange, I woke early last Thursday morning with a stomach ache because I was so excited to go strawberry picking with Amy and the kids. =) Okay, that is a little strange. Anyway, she finally arrived and brought with her her digital camera (also at my request since mine is broken) to take a picture of the sign above for my blog AND for my continued viewing pleasure at home.

Bless her bunions!

After a quick tour of the office and the photo shoot, we had a delightful visit, enjoying our quaint surroundings while seated at a picnic table adjacent to the KFC drive-thru.

It was a beautiful day!

Oriental Slaw

I just wanted to share my latest favorite recip which came from my sister-in-law, Meridith. LOVE IT SO BAD! It makes a perfect potluck dish to pass or hot summer day meal...

1 16oz. package of coleslaw mix (about 5 cups)
4 green onions, thinly sliced
3 3oz. package oriental flavored Ramen noodles, broken up
3/4 c. sliced almonds, toasted
3/4 c. seasame seeds, toasted
1/2 c. salad oil
1/3 c. white vinegar
1/2 c. sugar
1/8 t. pepper

Up to 1 hour before serving (I have gotten away with doing it the night before), combine coleslaw mix, green onions, Ramen noodles (save seasoning-mix packets for the dressing), almonds and seasame seeds in a salad bowl. Cover and chill.

In a screw top jar combine oil, vinegar, sugar, pepper and seasoning-mix from the packages of noodles. Cover and shake. Chill.

At serving time, shake dressing again, pour over salad and toss to coat.

I have stirred in some grilled chicken breast and/or broccoli and carrots for a tasty little variation. I have also improvised a bit when I was lacking the full amount of an ingredient called for and it has turned out delicious every time. I think I liked it best when I used napa cabbage instead of the standard slaw mix you buy in a bag. And one note of caution: make sure that at least one other person in your household intends to help you eat it because devouring the whole batch in one weekend doesn't fit so well into most diet plans.

Strawberry Fields Forever

Today Amy and her children, Ella and Grant, went strawberry pickin' with me and "mines" to a local berry farm around the corner. My Mom met us there too. The pickin' turned out to be not so very bountiful, just few and far between and on the smaller side of small. We gave up after picking not even 4 pounds between both of our families and went in search of a local fresh produce market a couple towns away that was rumored to have good'nes already picked for a buck less a pound. Twenty miles and a few good conversations later, we were still out of luck as we found the market, but also found they were fresh OUT!

Doubting we had picked enough to make jam in the afternoon as planned, and determined to make the most of our precious time together, we decided to take in an Amish market I had been telling her about that happened to be nearby. They mostly sell scratch and dent groceries, but also carry a few of their handmade wares and delightful homemade confections. When we drove up we saw a sign on the door that said they had freshly picked strawberries inside for an even better price. Jackpot! Yeah, except they were sold out and so was their supplier up the road at the other Yoder farm. GOSH! Those Amish...you just can't trust 'em! Anyway, we did fill up the back of my van with groceries for only 60 dollhairs betwixt the two of us. I love that place! It is like grocery shopping at a garage sale...only a lot smellier because it is on the farm...and a lot hairier because there are a lot of bearded men who answer to the name Jonas scurrying about doing chores.

S'wanyway, when we finally made it back to my house we discovered we did have enough strawberries from the runt farm to make not one, but THREE batches of freezer jam. All said and done, we ended up with 9 half pints each. YUM!

Below are some other photos from the day...

Our Berry Fun Day

An Elwinism

So my Mom and Dad just stopped by for a little visit late this afternoon.

My Dad, who frequently starts a conversation with an observation about some late breaking current event, asked me if I had caught the morning news this morning. I said I had not and that I hadn't caught any headlines on the internet either. He proceeded to tell me that the Pope has the Bird Flu. Oh MY, I thought. Anxious to be enlightened on the events of the day which I had snoozed half away, I credulously began quizzing him for more detail.

(Had I forgotten who I was talking to?...Need I say more?!)

Yeah, they think he got it from the Cardinal. =)

That's my Dad! You just can't NOT love him!

That ain't very Christian!

There is a certain saying that can frequently be heard being blurted out around our house (or my workplace) when things seem to have gone awry. Jeff says it too, but it is mostly me who beats it to death. Is anyone surprised? Of course it is not my own material, but rather a catch phrase from a popular comedian of the Blue Collar Comedy Tour. We are not huge fans of his work, but I must admit he has grown on me with his thick, annoying and very fake southern accent. I just recently read that he was actually born and raised on a pig farm in Nebraska and has no southern roots at all, just as I had suspected. (Yes, I am purposely neglecting to mention who he is...my mama is reading...hi, Mom!)

Be that as it may, "That ain't very Christian!" has proved to be a useful tool in variety of frustrating circumstances, particularly when the said frustration has no moral, spiritual, or otherwise religious implication. The toilet is clogged...That ain't very Christian! We're out of milk...That ain't very Christian! The printer has a paper jam...That ain't very Christian! The Chinese restaurant is out of those crunchy things you put in your Won Ton soup...That ain't very Christian! (That was for you, Shari!) You get the idea!

So Julia is five and has been diligently working on developing her vocabulary. We do live in Michigan, so not surprisingly one juicy little find has been the word "ain't". It is a delicate matter explaining why she should not say it since there are a few respected people in her life who think it is a fine word to say. I simply told her that she sounded a lot smarter when she didn't say it and that seemed to suffice. I mean, who would knowingly say something that would spoil her chances of sounding smart?! Plus, I couldn't make it a matter of rightness or wrongness and have her going to school correcting everyone as she had done earlier in the year, nearly losing her dearest friend who wouldn't heed her warning to stop taking the Lord's name in vain. A little different, but still...

So recently she was in a state of absolute hysteria over her belief that Andrew had stolen her glow-in-the-dark bracelet that Gramma had bought for her on our camping trip. "I'm not joking, I'm not lying, and I'm not confused! You have to believe me! Andrew STOLE it and you have to make him give it back!" she sobbed over and over and over and over. Since no amount of reasoning could sway her and she was clearly inconsolable, I just let her ramble on and on as I continued unpacking. But one of the last times around I heard her randomly interject, "And why are you allowed to say ain't like 'That ain't very Christian,' but we aren't? It AIN'T very fair!" and then continue right on with her rant without missing a beat.

As it turned out, Andrew was in fact not guilty as charged. The bracelet was in the seat pocket of the van right where she had placed for safekeeping on the trip home.

Boogie Man

Last night after the children were nestled all snug in their beds, Jeff decided it would be a prime opportunity to watch Saving Private Ryan. He had already seen it a half dozen times or so, but he had just purchased his own copy the day before and was anxious to break it in. Not being a fan of war flicks myself, I chose to take advantage of the quiet time to catch up on some reading and emailing, etc in our bedroom with the door shut: my sanctuary, my retreat...Oh the sweet solitude! It was delightful, minus the 6 or 8 times Andrew came in to tell me that he couldn't sleep, and then again to tell me he was hot, and then again to tell me he had already read all of his chapter books that he had just checked out from the library 2 days earlier, and then again...

But finally all the monkey business ceased and not a creature was stirring.

It had been a long couple of days. Kathryn had been raging with a fever of unknown origin for the past 36 hours, most of which I had spent holding or otherwise comforting her in some small motherly way. All day I couldn't wait to just cool down, literally, after soaking up so much heat from her fervid little body. It wasn't unbearably warm last night, so being ever mindful of the effect of rising energy costs on our summer family budget, I opted to leave the window AND blinds open rather than to run the A/C all night. This is a highly unusual occurrence at our house. I don't like open windows and I HATE open blinds.

So I sat on our bed situated in front of the open window, with the partially open blinds, with all my projects sprawled out around me as I savored the silence, when suddenly it was shattered by the very distinct sound of a watch alarm clock going off. It beeped several times and then stopped. This shouldn't be cause for concern except for, um yeeeah...we don't happen to own any watches at this house right now. And if we did, they would not be of the alarm-clock-going-off description.

Terror gripped my heart. My pulse quickened. All the blood in my body rushed to my already sweaty face. What to do now? This is why windows and blinds need to remain in the down position at all times, how could I have been so foolish? I was certain that whoever was out there with his big, fat, scary, hairy watch alarm going off on his big, fat, scary, hairy arm had already seen me. My doom was sure. But I couldn't just sit there helplessly, as he lay in wait to leap through my window and gobble me up. So after gathering all my courage, away to the window I flew like a flash, cranked down those blinds and drew in the sash.

There. I was safe. NO BODY could get through that window now. No way, no how. As I slowly regained my composure, I desperately tried to identify some other electronic device from which the noise could have come. It sounded ever so vaguely familiar, but at the same time so frighteningly foreign. I just couldn't place it. In any event, I assured myself that I had truly been braver than I believed, stronger than I seemed, and smarter than I thought. I mean, I had not even disturbed Jeff or Private Ryan with so much as a whimper. I had acted as a strong, independent woman and I was a better person because of it.

I read for another hour before calling it a night. I tidied up the bed and smoothed the linens before climbing in. Oh, but wait! What is this little bump I feel under the sheets that is just about the shape and size of the digital thermometer that goes BEEP, BEEP, BEEP and then STOPS??? Almost at this very moment of discovery, Jeff came in and we had a good laugh at my terror resolution skills. No boogie men bothered us the rest of the night.

And this concludes my first and very lengthy blog post. Anyone still reading?

This is only a test...